Emily Dickinson Poem

This was in the White of the Year

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This was in the White of the Year—
That—was in the Green—
Drifts were as difficult then to think
As Daisies now to be seen—

Looking back is best that is left
Or if it be—before—
Retrospection is Prospect’s half,
Sometimes, almost more.

This World is not Conclusion
This was a Poet—It is That

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